


Forever's As Far As I'll Go

by emryskynobi



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 08:22:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emryskynobi/pseuds/emryskynobi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle loves Rumpelstiltskin as he is – and that includes the Dark One. So, why would she want to destroy part of the being that she loves?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: If I owned any of this, would I be writing fanfic?  
> And I would've made Henry feel a bit more conflicted between Emma and Regina. Am I the only one who feels sorry for her? And not just because of the Daniel thing, she is an adoptive mother who raised the boy on her own. I've baby-sat for kids and don't think I could've done it 24/7 as she did. I mean, did anyone see any signs of a nanny? She mentions taking care of him when he was teething, being up all night for his feedings, she seems to have done these things on her own. So, yeah, she raised him all by herself and held down a job while doing it. Knowing the truth about who she was or not, Henry should've been torn between the two.  
> Author's Note: Starts somewhere in "Skin Deep" then goes terminally AU.

* * *

 

Belle left the darkly dressed woman, shaken, deep in thought and chilled down to the marrow of her bones. She did not like the strange woman she met nor what her words implied. If she loved Rumpelstiltskin, why would that love only be for the part of him that was human? Would it not be a shallow love if she only loved a part of him?

Yes, the Dark One was...uncomfortable to be around especially when he was in one of his black moods. His rages were never something she wished to encounter, not again. Being an observant soul, she'd learned how to read the signs so that she could make herself scarce when someone had been foolish enough to encourage them.

Foolish enough to engage them and try to make him dance to their tune by thinking that he would be easy prey if he was emotional.

Fools.

It was when he was at his most emotional, most passionate, that he was at his most dangerous strength.

But he was a part of the being she lived with. While she'd seen less of him as time had passed, she could feel the being writhing underneath the skin of her Master. And, as hard as it would be for others to accept, wanting to change who he was, she learned to accept this dichotomy of character. To care about both sides of him. The melding of the dark and the light within him.

It was who Rumpelstiltskin was.

No, he wasn't particularly socially adept. He didn't know the niceties of the world she'd grown up in but he was...someone she could relate to. He did not fall into the accepted norm of their world, as she did not. His dark sense of humor was just one of the things she loved about him. She rather shared the same taste, though she'd been careful to keep it under wraps. After all, her taste didn't fall as far into the darkness as his did.

Yet, that was not the only thing she kept hidden from the one who seemed to see and know all.

For who knew how he'd react if he knew that she held such warm emotions for him?

The house - her _home_ she corrected herself - came into view and she breathed easier upon seeing it. Feeling the familiar protection surround and embrace her, she relaxed into it, the chill inside easing before flowing out entirely as the door closed behind her. Seeing him at the loom, she smiled and gently teased him, "Admit it. You're glad that I'm back."

"Of course, dearie. If you hadn't come back, I'd have had to get the hay myself and waste my time. I hate waste," he replied. Shaking his head in mock disapproval at the very faint look of disappointment on her face, his eyes studied her intently. There was something about her that didn't seem quite like the Belle he had come to know very well. Different - and it wasn't just because she'd been out of his home.

Away from his sight for he'd refused to spy on her, not wanting to have his theory confirmed as she returned to her father's home.

"Oh, of course you do," she agreed solemnly, a twinkle in her eyes that couldn't quite hide her anxiety. "And you owe me a story."

The slight hitch in her voice was the next thing he focused on, then he saw her eyes. He'd thought he'd seen every shade and ever look in them but this one…this one was new. And he didn't like it for he couldn't really classify it as he could other looks. "What happened?" his voice was sharp on the question.

Belle didn't even pretend ignorance. Lying never helped when dealing with a being that could sense the lie even in the truth. "As I was walking towards the castle, I noticed a carriage following me. So, I stepped to the side to let it pass. It did not. The carriage stopped and a darkly clothed woman stepped out, walking up to me. At first she offered me a ride. When I declined, she said that she would continue walking with me until we had reached my destination. I do not know if she meant me harm for there was a feeling about her that I cannot quite describe. Or if she was genuinely concerned for my welfare.."

"She didn't hurt you, did she?" He was standing up now, hands behind his back in a pose of casual ease. Tension radiated off of him, coiled and ready to strike. To bring him from a state of rest into frenzied actions, he just needed a direction to fling himself towards.

Biting her lip, she studied him. The room had suddenly grown cold and she was glad that she hadn't removed her cloak. Wrapping it about her, she hesitated in her reply. For how was she to answer such a question when the harm was to her mind, not her body? "Not in a physical manner."

"How?" he demanded, moving into her personal space.

For a moment, she feared he was going to shake the truth out of her. His eyes were so dark, she couldn't see her reflection in them – not even a hint of herself. "She…she…she told me that…" she trailed off, trying to find the words that just weren't coming. Her mind latched onto one of the things the woman had told her, something in the words that had struck her as wrong. "Is it true that true love's kiss can break any curse?"

Rumpelstiltskin let out a hiss of breath. _Oh, Regina, you are a clever one, preying upon Belle's courage and hopeful nature_. The Dark One cackled maniacally, "She told you that?"

"She seemed to be under the impression that you needed rescuing. Though from what, I don't know."

Stepping back, he motioned for her to place her bundle down. "And what do you intend to do?"

"Nothing," Belle replied, breathing harsh in the silence.

"Nothing?" his voice mocked her.

"No, because it would hardly be true love if I destroyed part of the being that I loved, would it?" She tilted her head towards him as she asked the question, wanting to hear his answer.

That got his attention, "What?"

She smiled, a bit bitter. "How could anyone fall in love with only half a being? You are not a monster, Rumpelstiltskin. I keep telling you that. And I will continue to tell you that until you accept it as truth. You are what you are. Granted, your rages are more destructive than others – but, again, it's a part of who you are. Unlike other magical beings, you are neither black nor white. You are in the gray. You do what no one else can do or will do for others.

"And you suffer greatly for it," she softly added.

They stared at each other, tension running along her nerves. Had she gone to far? Would he cast her aside? When nothing happened, when he just stared contemplatively at her, she breathed out the breath she hadn't realized that she'd been holding. "I shall get dinner started, shall I?"

Long after she left the hall, he stood, staring at where she had been. Part of him wondered if this was some elaborate trick but inside he had to admit that it couldn't be. Even the Dark One could sense that it was no trick. His Belle was clever, but deceptive she was not. Even if the Queen had tried to seduce her into destroying him – and he was not a fool. If he was truly cursed, he knew that true love's kiss would free him. Belle was incapable of it.

But he would have to do something about the Queen.

No one harmed what was his.

 _ **No One**_.

 

* * *

 

Belle paced the hall, glancing out the window several times. Rumpelstiltskin had disappeared months ago. While him leaving for long periods of time was hardly new, he'd never left her alone this long. No, something had happened to him. Someone tried the door again, tried to force it and she closed her eyes before dashing up the stairs, hiding in his quarters.

While she consciously knew that none could break the spells protecting their home, it did not stop her fear. "Where are you?" she muttered once darkness had fallen and she'd emerged from hiding. "How can I find you?" Restlessly, her fingers twitched around the locket he'd made her shortly after her run in with the woman he'd told her was the Dark Queen, remembering his promise.

" _Wear this always and none can harm you that I will not know. I will come for you – if I can. Just promise me that you will never take it off._ "

It had been a promise that she had made willingly, even if the idea that he could always track her was frightening. Frightening and comforting all at once, she could admit that. She wandered into his lab and wondered, could the tracking work both ways? Was it possible for _her_ to find _him_?

Her eyes trailed longingly over to the shelf with the books that were practically falling off of it. He'd never expressly forbidden her from reading, from studying anything she came across, just that she was to never touch his experiments. Except, she had – under the influence of dreams he'd sent her to finalize…something. Some final plan he'd been unable to complete himself.

It was this that hardened her resolve to save him.

Striding over to the books, she started to read the spines before giving up and pulling out one to search at random. They fell around her like dominoes. Biting her lip, she stared at them in frustration. Just once, _just once_ , couldn't something go her way? Rumpelstiltskin was in danger, she was his way out – and she had to clean up instead of finding him.

Growling, she took a step back. "Come on, Belle, this will do you no good. Make a plan and then implement that plan. Don't waste time doddering about, wailing about bad luck. May be organizing all of this will help you find you are looking for." Closing her eyes, she breathed in and out before organizing the books. Hours later, she'd weeded out all the ones she figured wouldn't help her. Replacing them on the shelf, making room for the overflow on other shelves, she took the few possibilities she'd found and left.

Comforting as it was to be surrounded by his scent, she couldn't work in there any longer.

It was a few days later that she began to practice some of the spells she read. Basic defense and offense, shielding and healing spells that would help her on her journey. Enhancing the protection on the house, she extended the shield to encompass the grounds – only she and Rumpelstiltskin would be able to walk through it. Would be able to see the house and only when he returned with her would it become home again.

She still hadn't found what she was looking for but figured that someone as powerful as Rumpelstiltskin was couldn't have disappeared without a trace. She would have to follow the tales of him, seeking him out where she could find him. Reading some more, she realized that, come morning, her journey would begin.

Anticipation and terror filled her.

And ruthlessly, she shoved it aside. She would not be swallowed up by it. There was no way she was going to allow it to control her. Do the brave thing, she'd once said to him, do the brave thing and courage would follow. Going with him had been easy. Following after him was hard – but it was all she could do.

She'd promised him forever.

And forever is what she would give him.

 

* * *

 

The mines were before her. She'd never thought to find this place. Creeping down the stairs, she kept to the shadows that had long since become home to her. Aching to hear him, to smell him, to _see_ him, she couldn't stop pressing forward. Couldn't let them, the ignorant ones who'd so caged him, find her.

Down into the narrow darkness, she travelled and then suddenly, it opened up before her.

A cage filled her vision before it narrowed onto a familiar figure. Bowed but not broken, dirty and still somehow pristine, she broke free from the shades, racing towards him. Her hands reaching out, reaching through the bars, reaching for him. Her voice broken sounding for she had ceased to speak since learning of his fate, "Oh, my Master, my Rumpelstiltskin, what have they done to you?"

"Belle?" his reply was stunned. Knowing of the pain that would come, he still reached through the bars, touching her hands. Her flesh and blood hands reached him, gripped his.

"I'm here," she sobbed the words out. "At last, I am here. I'm sorry I was so late in coming but it was hard to find you. I've worn through seven pairs of iron shoes and walked the world several times over to find you once again."

"You were free," he whispered, ignoring the way the magic in the bars shocked and jolted him.

Kissing his hands, tears streamed down her face. "I could never be free without you beside me."

"Why are you here?"

She could reply with words of teasing, that she never broke a deal. Remind him that he'd said forever for the safety of her town and people. But she couldn't do that. She wouldn't do that. They were not the words needed. "Because here is where you are."

"Your home is safe, regardless of where I am, dearie."

"But I am not," she replied, leaning forward to rest her head against his. Pain filled her at the touch of the bars upon her skin and a sick realization filled her, "Oh, my Master, how this must pain you." Her hands tried to release his.

But his grip tightened. "I never thought to see you again."

She smiled, sadly recognizing the pain in his words. Recognizing that the time for pride had come and gone. The truth must be spoken now for she could no longer hold it back. She'd searched for him for too long and through to much to let it go. If he tried to cast her aside, she would not go – there was no longer any choice of that for her. It no longer mattered if he did not feel the same devotion to her. She was his that would be sufficient for her. Being without him had taught her that. "I love you – all of you. These ignorant fools cannot understand that."

"Hide, dearie, they are coming."

"But…"

"They would take you away from me," he reminded her. "That I could not endure now that I have seen you again. Use the necklace to conceal yourself and stay near me."

It was the closest thing to an _I love you_ that she would receive. She stepped back slowly, until all that remained was their linked hands before even that contact was severed. Into the shadows she returned and hid, staring only at him. Prince Charming – _James_ – her mind supplied walked into the room, Snow White behind him. And yet, her eyes and attention remained upon her Master. She did not listen to their bandying words, their hollow threats were nothing to her.

All that mattered was that she could breathe again.

 

* * *

 

The weeks blended into each other as she showed him the magic she'd taught herself. As she told him her stories and he told his. Tea was served in the broken cup, a priceless treasure they shared between them. As of yet, she could find no lock and no door upon his cage but she had yet to give up.

Belle could not give up.

Rumpelstiltskin was not meant to be locked up like he was some kind of freak. It would only make the Dark One fiercer, more dangerous when he broke free. And she knew that he would break free, the Dark One was merely biding his time, gathering his strength and power. No mere cage could hold him captive for long.

The Blue Fairy may have some understanding of magic, but hers was limited.

The Dark One's was all encompassing for dark did not necessarily mean evil, as much as others wished that it could be so. His was not tied to one area, one focal point. He could come and go as he willed.

In the end, it was the Dark Queen who betrayed them.

They had grown lax, careless over time, and she found Belle, asleep against the cage, hand reaching in to hold his, trying to spare him pain. A startled gasp left her lips for this was a sight she had never expected to see. The Dark Queen made no other sound than that first involuntary expulsion of air, did not reveal what she knew. At last, she knew how to get what she wanted from him.

She left whispers around, speaking of the girl who loved the demon. Who lived beside him, just beyond his reach.

And the Blue Fairy came, seeing her. Prince Charming pulled her away, ignoring her anguished screams to let her go. Ignoring what his eyes told him that he was seeing in Rumpelstiltskin's eyes. "Get her away," he hoarsely ordered.

"Don't do this!" Belle pleaded. "I promised him forever. You cannot do this."

"You are confused, child. He is not what he seems to be," she was told.

Belle's eyes hardened, becoming hard as diamonds. "I know what he is. I know what he's done. If you do this, I will find him again and again and again. There is no where in this whole world that you could send me that I will not strive to come back. If you cast me away from his side, I will find him. And I will free him. Then you will feel the sting of my anger upon you, Reul Ghorm.

"I swear with all the love I hold for the Dark One in my heart that if you do this, you will never know another happily ever after."

"You are delusional, child."

Meeting his eyes, she nodded. "It has been done, my lovely Dark One."

A slow, wicked smile crossed his face. "You have sealed your fate, Reul Ghorm. Charming. Of all the ironies in life, this one is…absolutely delicious." His manic laughter filled the air.

As she was dragged from the chamber, her laugh joined his.

"What are you talking about?" Charming demanded.

"That woman there – my Belle – she was the one thing that stood in the way of absolute destruction of your world. You took her from me, now I will make sure that you lose everything."

Charming slammed his hands against the cage. "Just tell me straight, demon, what did you do?"

"Oh, I didn't do anything. You did," he smirked and stepped away. Hidden in his hands, the only thing he had left of Belle.

 

* * *

 

"Are you sure of this?" Snow asked, staring at the woman held in the other room. Something about her, about the way she sat, the way her eyes never left the window, touched a cord within her.

"She is a danger to us all. We must find a way to send her out of our world."

"But you said there was no way, now that the magic bean is gone."

"There is a way known only to a few, but it is dangerous. I would not suggest it but…Charming, Snow, I fear that she will break Rumpelstiltskin free from his cage," the Blue Fairy sighed.

They both stared at her. "You said that was impossible."

"It was supposed to be," she released another sigh. "But there is a power greater than mine – true love. She holds it for him and will not rest until he is free. The Dark One cannot be free."

"And you cannot keep him caged, Reul Ghorm," Belle mocked. "It is only a matter of time before he is free. You thought he was bad before, you never understood him. Locking him away, you've released his madness. I pity you for he will make you pay for what you've done. I look forward to that day."

 

* * *

 

It burned, the light and the dark, acid in her mind, fire ants crawling across her body. Forcing her eyes to open, she looked around, shielding her eyes from the harsh glare of the sun. "Where am I?" she asked the silent desert. Memories clouded her mind, fought for dominion, struggled for supremacy before falling silent. Falling silent under the strength of her will, her determination not to lose that which meant the most to her. That which was truth to her, she could not lose it. "I'm Belle, servant to Rumpelstiltskin."

Pushing herself upright, she moved until she was on her knees. Then slowly rose to her feet, making her way slowly to the cave just beyond the ridge. "And this is not my world."

Somewhere in her mind, she could hear merciless chanting that she forget him. Forget that world for it was not her place any more. To live in this new world, to be this teacher of something called archaeology. That she become this Annabelle French, but she resisted the endless chant. How could she forget that which was integral to her soul?

That which allowed her to function, to breathe? He upon whom her life was centered?

"Rumpelstiltskin," she yelled his name in defiance.

"Rumpelstiltskin!" she yelled even louder.

And a third time as a defiance to the very heavens above, "RUMPELSTILTSKIN!"

His name rang out, with a will and power all on its own. "I will not forget him. Take whatever else you wish and leave behind this new life, but you shan't take him from me. I will find him again," she vowed. "Just you watch me, Reul Ghorm."

 

* * *

 

Belle – for she refused to call herself by the name which wasn't hers even if it was similar to it – walked through the museum, fully aware that someone was behind her. "What do you want, Booth?" she asked, facing him at last. "Or should I say Pinocchio?"

"How is it that you know that?" he asked, shocked. In all the world, he'd thought he was the only one who retained memories of who he really was, of Fairy Tale Land – though he hated to call it that. It was hardly a Fairy Tale when it was real. Yet, here stood Belle, memory intact – and looking like she'd love to rip his heart out and crush it beneath the heel of her boots.

"How is it that you are? Oh, let me guess. That little blue bug decided to save you and the child of Charming and Snow," she snidely retorted.

"What do you have against the Blue Fairy?" he asked, stepping back.

Her lips curled up, more of a sneer than a smile. "What's not to love about the hypocritical little bug who stole my life and removed me from the side of the one I love?" The deceptively sweet voice softened, becoming true as memory stirred and reminded her of the being she called love. Of the one who – even now – completed her. She longed to be near him again, "Who loves me in return."

"You do realize that the Dark One cannot love," he pointed out.

Belle's eyes sharpened, pinning him in place. "Not in ways that are acknowledged as love by the plebian rank but it is a truer love than many will ever know. His love is no joke, no toy to be played with. And you all have done so, have mocked him and his affections."

Pinocchio shivered, fearing that the woman was deranged. What else could she be to make such a claim? And yet…and yet, there was nothing in her eyes or face that spoke of madness. The words she spoke were obviously those of a madwoman. But the woman herself was a different matter entirely. She was quite calm, clear, and to steady to be anything but sane.

It occurred to him that she could be sociopathic, psychopathic. But could such madness affect one of the Realm?

"Do me a favor, Pinocchio? Leave me alone and I shall leave you alone."

Turning away, she walked out into the day, the sound of her heels upon the ground the only thing left of her.

End.


	2. 'til the End of All Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle's new life in which she makes a discovery that could change the course of it al.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own OUAT. If I did, s3 part 1 would’ve been a lot longer. I would’ve loved to see the kid who played Pan being Henry a lot longer than he did. I really enjoyed that twist – not so much what happened afterwards. I have to wonder if Rumpelstiltskin knew that his dad was lying when he said such horrible things to him. Methinks that Pan was reacting out of hurt that his child, his flesh and blood, had done this to him when he was the only one who was supposed to do such horrid things. I really do think that Pan (Malcolm) loved his son and letting him go was the only thing in all of his life he regretted. I don’t think he was lying when he told Snow, Emma, and Regina that. It was probably the truest thing he ever said.  
> In fact, it shows his psychopathic nature – the obsessive, possessive, you are mine and I will keep you with me for all time love.  
> And I wouldn’t be pushing a Hook/Emma pairing. I’m sorry but doesn’t the guy deserve a love that is his own who was not someone else’s first? Especially someone of the same bloodline? Who doesn’t find it ironic that the woman he wants to love and be with is the same woman whose son’s mother he fell in love with? It makes the whole thing a lot more twisted than it needs to be.  
> Author’s Note: This is based on an intriguing idea one Mika gave me in which she suggested that Belle deliberately interfered with Booth’s interference in Emma and Neal’s love life. So, it starts in “Tallahassee” and goes AU for obvious reasons.  
> Also, the math they’ve done on the show with the years is totally screwed up because if Storybrooke was created in 1982 and Emma was found then, she would’ve been 18 in 2000. So Emma would’ve been 18 either when he was conceived or she gave birth to him. Which is fine until you realize that when Henry finds her ten years later, it means that season one begins in the year 2010. The series itself starts in 2011. So, in order to keep with the timeless theme of the fairy tales, I am not locking them down into calendar years. Because really, their math doesn’t make sense and I can’t make it make sense to me.

________________________________________

Pushing the glasses up her nose, Belle let out a sigh. Stretching her back, she took in the display before her. After many days of working, it was finally done and looked the way she wanted it to. Changing her career from archaeology to cultural anthropology – focusing on the myths and legends of the world specifically – kept her connected to her real life. The permutations to their stories, to their lives, was fascinating. Though she did object to the portrayal of her beloved Rumpelstiltskin as an actual beast, she rather hoped that their happy ending would be hers.

It was also a small rebellion against the life that the Blue Fairy had prescribed for her. A smile quirked her lips as she wondered what the great Lancelot would think if he could see how the modern world portrayed him.

Honestly, the man had dedicated his whole life to being worthy to stand somewhere near King Arthur’s side based solely on the king’s reputation. A reputation he’d only heard about and could not know if it was truth. He just believed in the words he’d heard and wanted to be able to just see the king. And they thought that he’d been in love, truly and deeply in love with Queen Guinevere?

Unbelievable.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she forced herself to concentrate on fixing the little details that bothered her about the display. The days were dragging on but she counted herself lucky. At least she had been able to avoid any long standing commitment to the museums she travelled and worked in. To avoid being pulled into a contract with the schools she taught in and the expeditions she went on. They were exciting, yes, and she saw more of the world than she had ever seen in the Enchanted Forest. But they meant nothing to her for they were lonely journeys and they lacked the one thing that would make them mean everything to her.

As ever, she was waiting for the time when she would feel _him_ again. Not only feel him, but find him. And when she did, she was never going to let him go again.

“Dr. French?”

Pasting what she called a social smile on her face, she faced her intern. A nice enough young man, a bit wet behind the ears and way to eager to please her, he was an ingratiating annoyance that had been foisted upon her while here. She also had the nasty suspicion that he’d formed a crush on her. Lately, she’d begun to treat him the same way Rumpelstiltskin had when she had first come to be with him.

Other than throwing him into a dungeon and she wasn’t ruling out that possibility. “Yes, Bernard?”

“There is a man here who demands to see you,” he sounded hesitant and she was instantly alert.

“Did he give a name?” she asked, rising to her feet and dusting off her hands. Afterwards, almost instinctively, her hand sought the locket that she’d held onto and clutched it tightly. Breathing deeply, she felt the magic tickle inside her. Reaching out, she couldn’t feel any threat but that meant nothing. Whoever this person was could be shielding their presence – their truth – from any kind of search.

She’d learned rather quickly that saying this world was without magic was a lie. There was magic, it was just different than what she’d known and experienced before. Magic here didn’t exact a price from others. It took that price directly from the wielder. In some ways, this world’s magic was a harsher taskmaster upon the practitioner and much more dangerous.

“No,” he paused, “Do you need me to call security?”

“I hope that won’t be necessary.” Her smile was tight. “I will see you tomorrow, Bernard.”

“But, Dr. French,” he began.

“Tomorrow, Bernard. Now, where is this man?”

“Very realistic display, Dr. French,” a smooth, oily voice said. “One of your finest if I may be so bold as to offer an opinion.”

Belle looked at him. Again, a social smile crossed her face as she studied him. “As you say,” she murmured, taking in his neat pin stripped suit and the blue tie that matched his eyes. His eyes were cold though in the weathered face and it reminded her suddenly of one of her father’s advisors. The one who was most vocal against her being a part of any of the war counsels and had, in fact, pushed forth his nephew to be her affianced. She never liked that man.

His head tilted as he studied her. “You look rather young for this.”

“I am quite qualified to do this work, sir. If you have any questions, you should direct them towards the Board of Directors.”

“I am Dr. Locksley and it is not your qualifications that I am concerned with, more the subject matter that you’ve chosen to display.”

“Arthurian Legends?” she asked, tilting her head and looking at him in a slightly challenging manner. She didn’t want to outright challenge him – that was a whole nest of trouble she wanted to avoid. But she wasn’t going to let him push her around. She hadn’t let Rumpelstiltskin do it and she certainly wasn’t going to let this man. “Is this not the time of the Renaissance Festival? A time when both the real history and the fictional history of the world is celebrated in both song and costume?”

She knew full well that it was. And that this particular display had been asked for specifically. It hadn’t been random, her choices had been deliberate and she had quietly argued her point and decisions in the choices she had made.

Point of fact, she had gone out of her way to make it compatible with the myths as well as being historically accurate, intermingling both the magical elements with the remnants of the Roman Empire’s hold upon the land. Hence the Moorish people who appeared in Arthur’s court and the signs explaining that while they were not a large presence, there were indeed people from Africa in England. The Romans had always pulled people from all over their empire to fill the armies – it’s how they tried to assure loyalty and devotion to their land.

Not to mention the Carthaginians had been explorers and travelers in their own right.

They had branched out and those that had sided with the Emperor had been allowed to keep the lands they had conquered. The Empire the Moors had was on the Iberian peninsula into the late eight century. They had only been expelled after the Fall of Grenada when Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand had solidified their hold upon Spain. It was a not a small side note in history, yet people seemed to forget all about it. Though she did not have the same depth of history coming from the Enchanted Forest as she had, such an ignorance – and a willing one at that – saddened her.

His eyes narrowed, realizing that this was not a fight he should be engaging himself in. There was something steely about this woman, much like another thorn in his side which let him know that he would be exhausting himself if he tried to argue with her. “Yes, but I have to wonder about your decision to portray the famed Sir Lancelot in such an unusual fashion.”

“Why? There is no reason to believe that he couldn’t have been a different race from Arthur and his knights. As he was from the continent, I see no reason not to put the thought into the minds of others that he could have been from the Iberian coast and not France. If you care to look you can also see that I’ve chosen to portray Sir. Percival as coming from the same area. There is some actual reference in myths and legends to this possibility

“And as you know France was not a country that existed in the actual time of Riothamus – he upon whom Arthur may have based. A fact which I note in the placard beside him that also states that Arthur was not a king in the traditional sense of the word. And while he was not the king, he **_was_** the lead chief over many chiefs. That he may have actually been the dux Britanniarum – an actual title held by Riothamus. Thus, the round table myth also had a definitive role to play in his story for while he was the head, he was only that because of those who he lead.”

“He appears to be of Moorish descent.”

“And did not the Roman Empire pull all manner of people from their provinces to put in their army? Was not the Emperor Septimius Severus of African descent himself, born as he was in the province of Leptis Magna – called today Khoms, Libya?”

“That he was from Africa is not in question, though many doubt that his family was native there.”

“But not enough of a doubt to dispel the thoughts that he was African,” she mildly commented. “Many of the coins that depict him reveal him to possess those traits typically found of those in that country. He was proud of where he came from, choosing to improve the city he was born in. I see no reason to not bring out the very layered past of the Roman Empire. It was not a colorless world and we should not portray it so. Would you deny Hannibal his right to be portrayed as a man with dark skin because it does not match the white washed world some believe the past to be? Or was he not a true Carthaginian?”

There was a fine line being drawn here that Dr. Locksley could appreciate. No matter what he said, he would be in the wrong on one matter or another.

“Dr. Locksley?” a voice asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting with the Board right now?”

“Yes, thank you.” And he wasn’t sure if he meant for the reminder – or the rescue from this conversation.

Belle watched him go, a troubled frown on her face. The man may yet cause problems for her, though she was willing to stand by her work. Backing down from a fight when she knew that she had firm ground upon which to build was not in her, even if it would make her life that much easier. Walking out into the evening, she pulled her coat tighter around her for it was an unusually chilly Arizona night.

A deep sigh escaped her, missing Rumple even more than she thought possible on this night of all nights. From the Dragon she had learned that she’d been passing through a void for several years. Even though she’d gone back to school and had done extensive work, she had not killed enough time for the Savior to come of age. Depressingly enough, this meant that she had at least ten more years to go before the daughter of Snow and Charming broke the curse, she didn’t know if she could wait that long to be with him.

But at least she would not be wasting that time any longer. Knowing this world, she had decided to help Rumple’s quest to the best of her abilities. She had done her best with what little knowledge she had about Baelfire – even a member of his family. It was impossible to find out what time he had come to this land but there were traces of magic everywhere – at least two times this world had something unexplained happened on an astrophysical level.

Now, she herself had no idea what that meant. Physics and astronomy not being her thing for they reminded her in a way of magic. So, as much as it pained her, she got in touch with one of the professors at the school she’d gone to – a Dr. Rodney McKay. The man was impossible, arrogant, and rather misogynistic for a man of this time. He was also – unfortunately – brilliant in his fields of expertise.

He was also too observant by half and had pounced upon her; poking holes in her story to the point that she had to just tell the irritating man the truth to shut him up.

Expecting mocking laughter and a call to the men in the clean, white coats who had needles of drugs to placate her, she was surprised that he went quiet. Quiet and way too calm as he stared at her, blue eyes meeting hers with painful and clear honesty. Far too knowing about something that she could not understand, “Do not speak of this to anyone, Lady Belle. If you ever need to talk, here’s my personal number.”

She had numbly accepted it, replying, “And here is mine.”

From that moment on, she and Rodney had become friends. Well, as much as one could be friends with a man like him. And she had experience with dealing with men such as him, though she was sure that Rumpelstiltskin would be appalled to be compared to a mere mortal such as McKay.

And vice versa.

A faint something twigged her senses and she stopped, looking around. Seeing nothing, she shrugged and carried on. There was nothing dangerous to the feel, just something familiar and warm. Pushing open a door, she entered the diner and looked around, waiting to be seated. A couple entered behind her and she stepped to the side, the feeling increasing as the man stepped beside her. Glancing at him from out of the corner of her eye, she recognized the line of his chin. The expression of love unaware on his face, the softness in the eyes that disguised the affection with teasing, and the determination.

Gasping, she stepped back and hurriedly excused herself to the blonde woman, pushing open the door and stepping outside. Leaning against the wall, her mind was reeling and she was desperately trying to pull in air through a suddenly tight throat. _Baelfire_. She had never seen him. Did not know what to expect, but she recognized the features of her beloved in his face.

“Do you know her?”

Belle heard the question through the shutting door.

“I don’t think so,” the reply was hesitant. “Why don’t you get us a table, Emma? I’ll see if she’s okay.”

_Emma, how ironic is it that the Savior found the child of the Dark One. He probably doesn’t even know who she is_. And yet, Belle couldn’t be sure. Because there surely was no way that Rumple’s son would’ve met and fallen in love with the daughter of Snow and Charming and not realize that there was something different about her. Belle hadn’t even meant her but she could feel a frisson of something in her aura.

“All right,” the woman sounded unsure but willing to accept his answer.

For the moment at least because if she was anything like her mother, a dragon would be easier to handle.

“Are you all right?”

Hysterical laughter bubbled up inside her and she had to swallow it back. Of all the impression she wanted to make on the son of the being she loved, being totally crazy was not one of them. And yet she knew that her affections for the man in question would leave Bae with little choice but to think so. While she had looked for him, she had never thought she’d actually find him.

So, she never prepared for the actual meeting.

Just what was she supposed to say to him? _Oh, I’m fine. It’s just that I never expected to find my love’s son in a diner in Arizona. You do know that your father is looking for you, right? And that he is sorry for messing things up with you. I do hope that you’ll accept me into your family and find it within you to give him a chance_. Yeah, she was completely sure that would go over well with him.

After all, who didn’t expect to meet up with your fictional past in a world that didn’t exist beyond the pages of a book?

Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to calm down and look at him. A crooked smile crossed her face, “I’m fine. Just a little tired and you remind me of someone.”

“It must not be a good memory,” he observed, shaken by the sight of eyes of an almost unnatural blue. A blue that he knew was not possible in this world, it was just to clear and bright. And she was beautiful. Even as in love with Emma as he was, he could see the beauty in the chestnut hair and fair complexion. Taking her arm, he pulled her away from the door. “You’re not from around here, are you.”

“From Arizona?” she shook her head, eying him as she realized that he was seeking confirmation for what his gut was telling him. And whether he was ready for it or not, she was going to tell the truth.

“But if you mean from Earth,” she said, focusing solely on his reaction to her reply. He did not seem at all shocked by her words though startled by her bluntness. Tall, dark brown hair and eyes, he was a nice looking man. While she could definitely see Rumple in his face, there were other influences in his face that revealed his mother. She had only ever seen a sketch of the woman and knew that she was a lovely woman. “No. I’m not. And neither are you, Baelfire.”

Flinching, he stepped back and looked quickly around. “It’s Neal.”

“Keep telling yourself that and it still won’t make it true.” Belle bit her lip. She was pushing, pushing him to hard and too fast. He wasn’t ready for this – and she couldn’t force him to be. Of all the things he was expecting, someone from his own world was not one of them. And she had no right – _none at all_ – to try and make him accept his past and to face it.

Making up her mind, she put her card in his hand. Because while she wouldn’t push him, she needed him to know that someone was there for him. Someone who cared and would do her best to help him, “Call me if you need help because I have a feeling that you will – especially if this Emma is who I think she is. And one more thing, it isn’t your papa you have to fear.” Turning around, she made her way briskly down the sidewalk before she could change her mind. Baelfire needed time to come to terms with what had just happened.

She couldn’t push him to accept anything from her.

“Neal? Are you all right?”

“No,” a deep sigh escaped him. “No, I don’t think I am.”

“Is she the police?” There was a thin thread of fear in her voice.

“She’s something worse,” a shuddering breath came after the words.

“Then we should leave,” Emma softly said.

Belle forced herself to keep walking even though she could feel the heat of the stare on her back. What she wanted to do was turn around, to reassure them both that she meant no harm. But she couldn’t. She would not force her aid upon anyone – even when everything within her wanted to more than just about anything. In all honesty, if she had to choose between helping them or going to Rumple, she’d choose Rumple even as she knew that he would choose his son over her.

And she wished that she could resent it.

________________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Lancelot being in love with Arthur was the impression I got from reading T.H. White's Arthurian stories. It was eye opening to say the least.


	3. Be Faithful and True

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma and Neal go to see Belle and she pulls a Rumpelstiltskin on him. Kinda. In her own way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks give I unto my readers and those who leave awesome kudos. And those who review...basically to everyone who gives this story a chance. All of you have my gratitude. I hope this chapter lives up to the wait.

 

* * *

 

For the next few days, she forced herself to forget about her meeting with Baelfire. Her skin itched and twitched, wanting to talk to the man and listen to his side of the story even as she told him about his papa's. Bernard knew something was up and had stayed away from her, often sending Penny in to deal with her. She rather liked the girl with her quiet manners and studious eyes. But there was something more to her, something underneath her skin that said she was not what she seemed.

Any other time, Belle would have been all over that mystery.

_Any other time_ …a knock interrupted her thoughts. Even as she schooled her features into politeness, she wished desperately to escape through the open window. For the first time, she cursed her upbringing and the courage that had allowed her to face the trials that had been placed before her. Because running away from all of this was definitely looking appealing to her.

But that wasn't who she was. If it had been, Rumpelstiltskin would never have looked twice at her.

"Come in," she called out, fearing another visit from Dr. Locksley. While true that he hadn't bothered her except for that first meeting, she had no delusions that he was finished with her. He was merely bidding his time, choosing which battle was the wisest one to engage her in.

"Is this a bad time?"

Her eyes widened in shock as she saw Baelfire and Emma. "I was not actually expecting you."

"Yeah, well, something has come up and I think you may be the only person who can help."

"Don't think this means that I believe that you both are from some fairy world though," Emma said, shutting the door behind them.

Belle considered that for a time. A smile slowly crossed her face at this sign of his outward acceptance of what was truth. It was to be hoped that such outer acceptance would also become an inner truth, "Glad you told her. And I would hardly expect anyone to believe such an extraordinary tale without extraordinary and repeatable proof to back up the claim." Rising to her feet, she went into another room and got another fold out chair. "How can I help you?"

Instead of answering her, Baelfire handed her a paper. Reading the words and the charges, she frowned. "You obviously had a plan to deal with this. Why the change?"

Emma studied her intently before coming to some conclusion. Whatever else this woman was, she was not afraid to face things head on. "I don't want my child to grow up without a father."

"Commendable," she agreed hiding her shock. Rumple was going to be a grandfather…she wondered how that would figure into whatever plan he had for reconciliation. She wondered if he had even considered the possibility that his son would be grown and would have a family of his own. She certainly hadn't. "I'm sensing a but in those words."

"A prison sentence for this wouldn't be long but it would be enough to change me," he was quiet. "Originally, I wanted to go to Canada but I can't leave Emma to face this alone, not when the both of us know what its like to grow up without parents."

  
"Did you have another plan?"

"I was going to pretend to find the watches and turn them in. Or pawn them," Emma admitted. "But even that could go wrong. Think about it for a moment. What if I was challenged? Why would I even have the key for the locker they were in? It's not like searches of bus lockers are a normal thing unless there is an actual crime involved. And trying to make one up to instigate such a search would only bring up the chance of further charges being brought against us."

"Something else happened though because the both of you could go to Canada after making an anonymous call about suspicious activity," Belle pressed. "What?"

The two exchanged looks, a volume of communication passing between them.

Belle felt a pang of envy and jealousy. In the last few days she and Rumpelstiltskin had shared, they had developed the same communicative abilities. Her fingers twitched under the desk, trying desperately not to show just how she was feeling. Something caught her eye out the window and she rose, trying to get a better look. Narrowing her eyes, she saw a familiar figure on a motorcycle. "Would this desire to ask for my help have anything to do with a man in a leather jacket on a motor bike?"

"Yes," the answer was slow in coming.

Perhaps it had something to do with the venom in her voice. "Did he tell you who he was?" she idly asked, tilting her head as she watched the man.

"No," again the answer was slow. "Should he have?"

"I should think so. If he has decided to screw around with your lives then he should have the decency to tell you who he is – and admit to being the reason for a lot of what has happened to you, Ms…" she let it trail off, making them aware that they hadn't officially introduced themselves, though Neal knew that she would not call him by his chosen name but the one his papa had given him. He couldn't help but wonder again about that connection.

"Emma Swan," her words were brisk.

"Belle French – or so they want me to believe," she returned the greeting. "What, exactly, did he tell you?"

"He made me aware of the fact that he knew who I was," he said.

"Did he now," she drolly said. "Why would he do that?"

"Doing so was an almost surefire way of getting me to run away instead of staying with Emma," he bluntly said. "He said that I was getting in the way of her great destiny, that it was in her best interests if I left her."

"Oh how commendable of him," she sneered. "Break her heart and she'll do great things. Be with her and make her happy, what? She'll only be mediocre? Hope he never tells Snow that. Then again," a viciousness entered her voice, "May be he should. I'd love to see her react to that belief that only misery will bring out the best in one."

"Uh, yeah," Neal sounded totally lost. "Do you know him?"

She let out a harsh bark of laughter, finally returning to her seat. "I know who he is if that is what you are asking."

They exchanged looks before Emma's head shook, letting him know that she didn't think it was worth pursuit at the moment. "You might think bad of me but I was going to run when I saw that he knew me. It's just that I've lost too many chances with a family when I've let my courage and hopes get up. When I first arrived, I thought I found a home but they were in danger. I tried to help them but ended up in a dangerous situation that I barely managed to escape from. I am ashamed to say that my fear of my father was almost greater than my love for Emma."

She could tell there was something more to it but didn't push it. At the moment, it didn't have any bearing on their next steps. "What stopped you?" Playing with the pen on her desk, she wondered how she could help them out. It wasn't as if she really had any impressive contacts in this world. And she hardly thought Rodney would like it if she called him to fix this.

"I did," Emma replied, sending him a glare. "After he'd come back after talking with that guy, he was acting all weird and furtive. But I haven't been living in a bug with this guy without learning who he really is. There was no way I was going to accept any pithy words from him about being afraid that our plan would go wrong. Something else was going on and he was an idiot if he thought I was going to be placated. He promised me Tallahassee and a new start – I wasn't going to let him dodge that without an explanation. And it better be a good one, not half cocked."

"Smart woman," Belle said, titling her head to the side. "What do you want me to do?"

"Is there any way you can help us?"

"Are you willing to accept the fact that if I help you, your father may find you?"

Neal was quiet, realizing that now was the chance to ask for answers. To learn more about this woman and to find out about his papa. "Yeah, what's up with you and him?"

Putting down the pen, she pulled out her necklace. "This was given to me by your father for my safety and protection. Whether you wish to believe it or not, he is not an evil man. Just because his actions are evil does not mean that he is. As for what is between us, he's my true love. And I am his. Even Reul Ghorm had to admit to that and I'm sure you can imagine how much that had to hurt considering her stance that the Dark One is incapable of love. Everything has a price, Baelfire, and the price for my help is steep, may even be more than you are prepared to face. Are you willing to pay it?"

"We don't have money," Emma protested though she had a feeling the cost was emotional and not monetary.

Neal stiffened, staring at her. Blatant honesty stared back at him. No madness or fear in her eyes, the woman believed what she said. _You are his goodness_ , the Blue Fairy had once said of him. Perhaps that had been true – but it had only related to the human side of him. It seemed that this woman, this Belle, had found it in her to love the entirety of the being that was the Dark One. "How has he been?"

"Some would say that I have made him soft," she replied. "Others that I have returned him to who the Dark One originally was, someone who was brought into being to do that which had to be done regardless of the cost. It is up to you to decide how he is."

"What is the price?" he softly asked.

"You give him a chance. I don't care if you start with letter writing, phone calls, or even e-mail but you give him a chance."

"Not demanding an instant reconciliation?"

Belle pinned him in place and he squirmed under the look. "I want a **_real_** reconciliation, not a con. You want my help, you're going to get it. But you are going to try to heal things with your papa. I promised him forever and I kept that promise as far as I was humanly able to. I stood against the scorn of others, the scourging of the priests my father set upon me trying to cleanse me of impurities, and walked through our world in seven pairs of iron shoes until I found him again. I will not rest until he has that which will give him a happy ending. It is up to you to decide how you want this to work and I will keep him at bay. Are we clear?"

Emma leaned over and squeezed his hand, "I'll stand by your choice, Baelfire."

A ragged sound escaped him, unable to believe that Emma - his stubborn Emma - had called him by that name. Unable to believe how _real_ hearing it from her made things. "You can keep him in line? Stop him from being extreme?"

"He was locked in a cage that deprived him of magic, Bae. I can only say that I will try."

"Then I can only try to do my best," he finally agreed.

"It's all I ask," she sighed. Standing up, she extended her hand, "The deal is struck."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

August watched the trio make their way across the packing lot to a plain, white car. It was obvious that they were having some kind of discussion before Emma finally nodded, leading the way to the yellow bug. His eyes narrowed as he watched Belle watch them drive away, a thoughtful frown on her face. As if she could feel his eyes, she looked up and over at him. Putting her keys into her pocket, she made her way towards him.

He couldn't help but stiffen at her approach.

For the moment, her reaction to this situation was more important than the damage that Baelfire was doing to Emma's fate. Standing in front of him, she tilted her head. "You know I find myself wondering how much this sudden charge again Baelfire is your doing. The crime happened a few years back, so why is he now being pursued for it?"

"I have no idea."

One of her eyebrows went up, "Really?" and a little laugh escaped her. One that sounded far to much like the Dark One's for his comfort. "Now, why do I find myself not believing what you're saying. Could it possibly be because you have expressed the idea that only in misery can great things be achieved?"

"I never said that," he denied.

"No, you just used a variation of the words – making him believe that only by leaving her could she accomplish her destiny. Tell me, Booth, just what could possibly happen that is so bad if she has Baelfire's support and aid? What could having someone who loves you and wants to help you bring about something that is worse than struggling through this life alone? Abandoned and forgotten? Struggling to find your way through a miasma of feelings, trying to reach some truth amidst the lies around you?"

August was silent before releasing a deep sigh. "I don't know – but I know that her destiny can't be changed."

"Of course not," Belle agreed. "I have not become so adapted to this world that I have forgotten the truths of our home. Yet I do not think this is a path she needs to or even should walk alone. There are dangers that have come into this world because of the curse. To one who knows not the touch of magic, there might be the chance to escape the lures they cast. But you know as I do the appeal of the easy, the quick to resolve. Would you deny her the right to have the help of one who knows those traps? Should she go to Regina's new realm, should she not have at her back those she can trust?"

"You think she'll trust you?"

"I'm willing to give her the chance to get to know me." Stepping closer, she leaned forward and rested her hand on his shoulder. "And I'm giving you the chance to do the brave thing as I once did. You were sent here for a reason, **_Pinocchio_**. It is one you have not fulfilled. Why not do the brave thing now? Help us and keep the wood at bay."

He scoffed, "You can't guarantee that."

"You're right, I can't. But when you were a wooden boy, did you have the difficulties you are experiencing right now when you followed the path of obedience to your father?" she archly asked. "Or did you suffer?" From his flinch, she had her answer.

Walking away, she paused and turned around, "You know where to find me."

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Emma wrapped her arms around Neal, feeling him shiver against her. It wasn't cold that affected him, this she knew. Truth be told, meeting Belle had been an experience had shaken her too. With Neal, she could convince herself that his words read true to her because of his past. That because of his sorrow, he'd found it easier to believe that it was magic that had separated him from his papa.

But Belle…that was another matter entirely.

Her eyes had been clear and focused, unflinching. What she had revealed to them was the truth. This place – this Realm – and everything that lived in it was as real to her as it was to Neal. A world of magic and wonder that breathed, was not just morality tales to pass the time away. They were not stories created to explain how the world worked. It was as real to them as Earth was to Emma. The worst part of it was that Emma could pick up no deceit in her.

Resting her head on Neal's back, she wondered how it could be true.

And if it was truth, how was she supposed to react to the news that she was the child of Snow White and Prince Charming?

_The child of prophecy_? Her arms tightened around Neal at that thought. His hand came up to cover her hand, squeezing it. "What are we going to do?" she hoarsely asked. "I don't want to force you into anything."

"You believe?" he asked quietly.

A huff of air escaped her and she squeezed back. "I don't know what to believe, Neal. But I know this – that woman is no less sane than you. So, if you're willing to step off that ledge into the unknown with me, I'll take that step with you."

"You are a strong woman, Emma Swan." He was silent, thinking it over. "But my father…"

"Was a kick ass dad until he allowed magic to corrupt him."

"What?"

Freeing one hand, she turned his face around until he was looking straight at her. "From what you've said, you lived in a village that branded him a coward. His wife left him high and dry to raise you alone. And he did a good job for, even with your shady past, you are an honorable and decent man. For love of you, he stayed in the village that hated and despised him. He refused to fight a battle he could not win so that you would not be an orphan. Even knowing how strong this duke guy was, he broke in and stole the dagger to try to stop a war from taking your life and the lives of the children in the village.

"I say again, your dad was kick ass."

"I…I never thought of it like that."

"Of course you didn't," she replied. "Your hurt and pain is still too deep to look at it through any other mirror. I may not know much but I know what I see. And that is that you are a good man – and much of that came from the man who raised you in love."

"You are a stronger person than I am, Emma Swan. If you stay with me, I can face him."

 

* * *

 

 


	4. Devoted to You

 

* * *

 

Belle stared at her phone, rather uncertain that she wanted to do this. While it was true that Rodney had said if she needed his help, she could just call him. She didn’t think he meant as errand, clean up boy. In fact, he’d probably bristle up and stare down his nose at her. _What do I look like, you moronic fool, a good Samaritan in khaki pants? If you have no advice on how to get this device up and running, then I really have no time for you right now. I am **not** a nanny._

And what could she offer to him in exchange? She was, in his mind, nothing more than a soft scientist. Someone who basically wasted good money on a useless degree, she could add nothing to the work of a real scientist. What was she? She was merely a cultural anthropologist who just happened to know something more than just what Earth’s sciences teach about.

And yet…and yet, he did allow her to call him friend, something that only a rare and privileged few had the right to.

Taking a deep breath, she flicked through her list of contacts until she found him. After taking another moment to steady herself, she pressed the call button. It took all her strength to keep from hanging up as the phone rang. Rodney’s patience was even thinner with those he perceived as crank callers than those in the field of idiots. Since that actually encompassed everyone, she really shouldn’t be so afraid of what he was going to tell her. The worst he could say was no with a few cutting and choice words.

“ _I assume you have a genuinely good reason to be calling and interrupting the work of a **true** scientist, Ms. French_.”

Belle had to smile. Rodney always refused to call her by her title. “Depends on what you think is a good reason, Dr. McKay.”

“ _Anything that involves you getting together with someone who could actually give us a working power source. I swear, having bleeding hearts or penny pinching scrooges breath down our necks about every little thing is more than a little annoying,_ ” he paused, obviously rethinking his words. “ _Or can give us the formula since I believe that will cost us less in the long run_.”

“Probably not,” she said. “If I’m thinking of the same person you are, everything has a price. It’s all a matter of how much you are willing to pay.”

A put upon sigh escaped him, “ _Then what is it? I have a few holes to poke in a certain theory by Dr. Rush – the moron actually thinks it’s possible to find the end of something that is always expanding_.”

“I thought he knew nothing of the program?”

“ _True, he doesn’t. Still, I do not understand how such a man who has the potential to rival me in intelligence can be so stupid. Is there some conspiracy out there that prevents people from using science and logic to come up with viable and realistic hypothesis?_ ”

Belle winced at the description, at the mention of the man.

_Dr. Nicholas Rush_ …now that was a man who’d given her more than a few bad nights when she’d met him. Her fingers twitched.  Tightening on the phone, remembering the moment she first laid eyes upon him. The sound of his voice, challenging one of her translations, and telling her that it was wrong, wrong, _**WRONG**. _

That distinctive lilt of a voice that sounded not quite right but was indefinably almost his. _The true Mordred – he who we of Scotland know as a kind king – was more complicated than the myths would have you believe, Dr. French. I would think that a woman of your flexible interpretations of the myths, allowing them to be truly real, would dig beneath the surface and discover that he was not as black and white as that idiot Monmouth wanted everyone to believe_.

For one, heart stopping moment, she actually thought that Rumpelstiltskin had found a way into this world without the use of a curse.

That against all odds, he’d come after her, knowing that together they would find his son. It had been something they had often discussed, trying to think of a way that did not require beans, shoes, or curses to accomplish. A way that the Blue Fairy would not be able to stop them because they had both heard that a door created from the last enchanted tree would help them. But the Blue Fairy had it under her care, so they would not be able to reach it.

And they knew – they just _knew_ – that if they went that route, they would be stopped and Bae would be lost to them.

If they were to succeed, it had to be done without any interference.

Heart in her throat, she turned around to look at him with a welcoming smile. But the human eyes that met hers were not his. Nor was his superior smile the same. It could be a trick, one to hide him from detection but the more she looked, the less hope she found. And within her chest, her heart crumpled into dust as she realized that this man who had all the brilliance of her Rumpelstiltskin, held none of his humanity.

Dr. Nicholas Rush was not him.

He may have had the look of a human Dark One, but he was not him. Could never be him and, while she’d worked with him for a time, she held him at a distance in a way that she had done to no other. She knew he’d felt it because he’d asked her flat out about it after seeing her interact with McKay. _You know, French, I find it completely odd that you can get along so well with him when he has less social skills than I and yet you treat me so coldly._

_Well, he doesn’t remind me of my lost **soul, ripped from my side with no true reason other than the ignorance and stupidity of others who refuse to see and understand us for what we are to each other.**_ The words had flown from her mouth, full of bitterness and bile, relishing the look of pure shock on his face before it changed. Softened, an understanding there for she knew of his wife, the woman he once claimed kept him tethered to his conscience and his humanity.

From that moment on, the one moment of pure, human honesty she’d shown him, he’d looked at her with new eyes.

Shaking off those thoughts, she focused on the conversation at hand. It was never a good thing to let one’s mind wander when talking to Rodney, he had a knack of knowing when it happened – and ripping into one for it. “Yes, Rodney. It’s an entire network built to drive you insane, thus robbing Earth of its greatest and only true defense – your brain.”

“ _Oh, funny – very funny, Belle. Been talking to my minions have you_?”

“Why no. Should I be?”

_“If you want that favor, you will not talk to those useless idiots unless I’m in the room. Each and every one of them are even more useless than I thought, blinded by my brilliance_.”

She laughed. “Even Carter?" she teased, well aware of his crush.

" _Especially that blond so called scientist_ ," he snapped.

"But Rodney, you have to admit they have a point.  You are rather obnoxious, uncaring, and fail to actually listen to the points others make.”

“ _Sorry, Belle but I have to say ‘ha’ because you are wrong_.” There was the sound of rustling papers and the door closing, “ _Why are you really calling?_ ” his voice was now serious – and concerned.

In as few words as possible, she explained the situation to him.

“ _And the watches are still there_?”

“Yes, I had them check and call me back. Told them that they should not remove them,” she replied.

“ _Then leave it to me – but you owe me big time, Belle French_.”

“I know,” she let a smile cross her face. “I’ll be in the area soon – want me to stay with you and pamper you for a while?”

“ _That’d be nice, especially since I’m going to Antarctica for a while._ ”

“I thought you’d learned not to piss off Colonel O’Neill.”

“ _It’s actually something I **want** to do_ ,” he paused at her scoffing laugh. He had to acknowledge the reality for it. Of all places, the frozen wastelands of Antarctica was not the place a man who liked his creature comforts would willingly want to spend time in. “ _I know but it’s true, Belle. There’s something down there that I have been waiting my whole life to see, to work on_.”

It was a concession to her, revealing just a bit of what he did. “I’m happy for you Rodney. You really deserve a chance to do something that is your own.” It was her concession to him, letting him know that she understood and accepted it. She never pressed him, knowing something of the necessity of secrets and honoring his decision to remain true to the contract he signed – even when she knew it irked his ego to be silent about what he did. “Am I ever going to see you again?”

“ _I don’t know – you’ll have to ask your boyfriend to arrange a visit if I’m not available_.”

She laughed, “He’s my true love, Rodney, not a transportation expert. And though he is loathe to admit it, there is a limit to even his abilities.”

“ _Is it really his son_?”

“Yes,” she replied quietly. “Rodney…I can’t explain this scientifically to you. I’m sorry, but there is no science behind my knowing this. Well, not science as it is understood on Earth. I just know what I know. His spirit feels so like Rumple’s, it’s almost painful to be in his presence. I mean, his edges are sharper because of the pain of his life and the betrayal he endured at his papa’s hands. He’s definitely not blind to his papa’s faults, but I can still see the child Rumple spoke of in him.”

“ _And it’s killing you_ ,” he said, voice free of mocking.

In this one thing, he envied her. What must it be like, he wondered, to know that true love existed? Not only existed but you had that kind of guarantee that it was yours if only you found the courage to take it? All he had was the certainty of science and math. And while he would never really want to become a sentimental old fool, hearing her speak with such devotion towards another, made him want it.

Want both his work **and** a love that accepted all of him, wanted him as he was, warts, scars, and bad attitude intact.

“And it’s killing me,” she agreed with him. There was a knock on the door and she looked at it, surprised. Getting up, she approached it cautiously and looked out through the peephole, wishing for a magically enhanced one so that she could really _**see**_ who or what was on the other side. Making sure that the security chain was firmly in place, she slowly opened the door and looked down to see a brown package on the step. Kneeling down, she gingerly moved it around, trying to find any indication of what this was or where it had come from.

“Uh, Rodney? What would you do if you found a package on your doorstep that you didn’t order and has no address?”

“ _Not touch it and call the police_ ,” he said.

“That’s what I thought,” she sighed. “I’ll call you later.”

“ _You do just that_ ,” he said, then added, “ _At home. I can’t keep being distracted from important work_.”

“Yes, Rodney,” she obediently agreed and said good-bye.

—

Rodney put the phone down, a thoughtful frown on his face. While true that he loved a challenge – and this promised to be a doozy of one – he was clueless about how to go about solving it. His frown deepened. He _hated_ not having a solution at hand.

There was a knock on the door and he barked out, irritated with yet another pointless interruption. Did no one understand just how busy he was? “What do you want?”

“Bad time?” Daniel asked, opening the door and looking at him.

“When it comes to idiots who pretend to understand the higher skills of science, it’s always a bad time.”

“Ah, well then I won’t take up much of your time. I just wanted to ask if I could have Dr. French’s number,” Daniel leaned against the doorway.

“And why would you think I would be willing to give you Ms. French’s number?”

“Because you want her in the program as much as I do,” he stated, unconcerned by the fierce look he received.

Rodney scoffed even as his mind mulled the possibility offered him. Daniel had connections to Jack and Jack had connections to those who could make things simply disappear in ways that he couldn’t…he could use this to his benefit. The question was, did he want to? He knew that she wouldn’t be giving her all to the program because she was biding her time until she could find Rumpelstiltskin. ”She’s a soft scientist who has no desire to be tied down long term. I doubt she would prove an asset to the program.”

“I think that’s something she should decide, don’t you?”

“Considering I know her, no.”

Daniel rolled his eyes at the imperious and smug tone the other man used, “I still want to try. There’s something we found that could use her expertise.”

“Fine,” he said it as though he was doing the man a big favor. One that he would one day call in so Daniel better be prepared to pay it without question. “But be warned, with her – everything has a price.  Be sure that it is one that you are willing to pay.” Waving Daniel out of the room, he allowed a smug smile to cross his face. He knew Belle and what she would ask – which was a benefit more for him than her. What she asked would result in him not having to dirty his hands or try something he didn’t know how to do but would still be a success.

\---

Belle picked up the ringing phone and looked at the display. From the area code, she knew it was in the same area as Rodney but she didn’t recognize the number. Walking to the land line, she dialed Rodney and waited, realizing that he would still be at work but it was too late to do anything to remedy that. She needed to know who it was – and he was her only knowledgeable source. “Rodney? Who would be calling me from your area? I only know you.”

“ _Dr. Daniel Jackson, apparently he thinks that what you do could be of some actual use to him_.”

“And how did he get my number?”

_“I gave it to him – because he’s got connections to someone who could actually make the whole watch thing disappear_.”

“Ah,” she smirked, knowing he could hear the sound over the line. “So I’m to make a deal with him, am I?”

“ _What you do with him is your business – just be warned, he’s persistent when he wants something_.”

“As long as the only thing he wants is my anthropology skills, I will play nice,” she darkly said.

Rodney was silent for a moment, “ _You know, I’m beginning to realize why you are the true love to someone who is known as the Dark One_.”

“Don’t be stupidly stereotypical, Rodney McKay. Dark does not have to mean evil – nor should it. Sometimes the greatest of evils lie in the ones most say are the epitome of goodness and light,” she shot back.

“ _And don’t you try to make me out to be some myopic fool who can’t see beyond the edge of my nose, Belle French_ ,” his retort was equally as sharp.

“Refrain from saying asinine things and I will do my best.”

“ _Same to you_ ,” he said.

After a moment, the both of them started to laugh. “I swear, you are the most annoying man in creation.”

“ _And you the twitchiest soft scientist ever_.”

“Aw, love you to, McKay.”

“ _Yeah, don’t tell lover boy that_.”

“It’s still ringing.”

“ _Answer that, I’ll see you here in a few days,_ ” he paused, then added, " _Or I will be there_."

“Certain the situation will resolve itself by then?”

_“I know Jackson_.”

\----

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I don't know if this constitutes what my reviewer, Mika, and I were discussing but she can be credited with some of the solution to the watch problem.


	5. That's what I had in mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive and hope this lives up to expectation.
> 
> Neal and Emma get far more than they bargained for when Belle brings in her help.
> 
> —————

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been having some time to reflect and step away because of family issues, one of which was a death in the family that I am not sure how to handle. As well as struggling with what I know of what OUAT is doing this season. It took me some time but I’ve come to the conclusion that I will not be watching the show for a time. I’ve got my own Arthurian ideas and I just know after the disaster that OUAT made out of the whole “Queens of Darkness” cycle and the “Frozen” mess that they just won’t handle things correctly. Let’s face it, in my opinion, they totally and completely missed their chances with those tales – Ursula’s story was particularly disappointing. She’s supposed to be this feared being of power and authority – and she was basically turned into a thug. And her story was basically Ariel’s but without the prince being the prime motivator for doing what she did. Disappointing. Maleficent’s spin was better than the movie’s plot was, though I wished they would’ve focused on what King Stephan or his Queen had done to upset her so much. Her main problem should have been with Snow and Charming, with what the 2 had done to her daughter. Cruella was about the only Queen of Darkness I bought into as one worthy of the title and that was because she was a total and complete psychopath who had no regrets or anything. Except, may be, for what she did to the author.
> 
> And, quite frankly, I would’ve let the story of the villains winning be the first half of the season instead of cramming it into one two-hour episode. I would’ve had the author write that Emma was the Dark One since his world had no need of a savior. Would have been a better spin to have her knowing who she really was and yet having to fulfill the role written for her, fighting against the darkness within her – and then have it still be in her for the second half of the season.
> 
> So, once again, my story is going to be totally and terminally Alternate Universe.
> 
> —————

* * *

 

  

“Booth, Emma Swan. Emma, August Booth,” Belle said as the two of them joined Emma and Neal by the fountain. “He’s on our side.”

“Not entirely willingly,” he muttered, looking around as though he expected to see the Blue Fairy jump out of somewhere and yell at him for betraying their cause. For betraying the Chosen One, the child of prophecy, into the hand’s of the Dark One’s lover. To berate him for allowing her to meet the Dark One’s son and become intimate with him, as though he had been gifted with the magic of the fairies to see right done when it was not so. He had been a child when dropped here and had no guidance from father. How was he supposed to know, supposed to stop these things from happening when he had not the ability to foresee them?

Still, it was a most uncomfortable feeling.

“I’ll believe it when I’ve had genuine proof of his actions to help us,” Emma said, eyes hard as she stared at the man who tried to rob her of her clean slate. The chance she had to make a new life for herself with the one who loved her regardless of her faults. The being who had tried to take the father of her child away from her skeptically, not trusting him one iota because he had proven nothing to her of his intentions, he was an unknown.

Emma did not trust unknowns, especially ones who had shown themselves to be less than trustworthy. This August Booth had tried to steal from her and so her eyes narrowed upon him, letting him know just how displeased she was with his presence, “And nothing less.”

Neal looked between them, feeling caught up in a weird kind of pissing contest between titans. It was not the first time he’d felt that way – nor did he think it would be the last time when he thought of his papa. Remembered the way others in the village had tried to put him down, tried to remind his papa of the place they thought of as his, that being the town fool and coward. But strangely enough, he was alright with this version of the contest.

He hadn’t thought he would be. But he trusted Emma. He trusted what they had with each other and had come face to face with the revelation that she was not the kind to back down from a challenge – the fact that he was here with her was proof of that. Her moral compass may have been slightly skewed like his own, but she had the strength to see the truth that others could – or would – not.

And she had been right. Dark One or not, his papa had been a loving and strong father to him.

“What can you do for us?” Emma asked, shifting her attention to Belle when August had nothing to say to her.

“I called in a friend who has some…unique connections and knows about keeping quiet.”

“We can’t let too many people know,” Neal quietly said.

“This man already knows who and what I am. Since he did not immediately lock me away for telling the truth and is involved in some pretty dangerous, highly confidential things himself, I feel no need to fear him. Neither should you,” she replied. “He’s a coward but knows what information will spare him pain. Anything about us is not one of those things. He’ll be quiet. Still, if you want to meet him, I will introduce you. I suggest you wear the thickest amount of emotional armor that you can and be prepared to give as good as you get. Rodney McKay is many things but kind, tactful, and humane is not one of them.”

Booth blanched and took a step back, Neal looked gob smacked, and Emma just stared at them, baffled by their reactions. “Who?” she asked the only one who seemed utterly unconcerned by the man.

Neal closed his eyes, “Tell me you did not just say Rodney McKay.”

“She did – nice to know that even legends,” they could literally hear the sneering derision in his voice, “have heard of me. And are wise enough to be impressed.” He strolled up to them, looking over them critically. His eyes focused on Neal in the end, reading him fairly easily, “That the infamous son?”

“Yes,” Belle said.

“Not much to be impressed by,” he dismissed him. Looking at Belle critically, he shook his head. “You won’t come work with me but Daniel asks and you jump at the chance.”

“He told me about an Arthurian legend I’ve never heard anything of, even the characters were people I’ve never heard of. I never would have thought he had a sister who was equal to him in power and magic, Languoreth, though I have probably murdered the pronunciation of her name. Learning about the fanatic Mungo, a true rival to Merlin who was male, well that interested me. You know that I’m always looking for tales that don’t follow philosophy that women are the true evil of the cosmos,” she shrugged. “Besides I wouldn’t say I jumped considering he had to bring O’Neill in on the conversation. And do you think it would have killed you to warn me about him?”

There was something about O’Neill’s voice that sent shivers down her spine, even when he had been joking with her. It was just that feeling that this was a man who got what he wanted if he truly wanted it – or someone he cared about wanted it. Daniel wanted her for a time – therefore O’Neill would move heaven, hell, and Earth to get it for his best friend.

“Yes,” he replied. She had heard him complain at length about the man. It wasn’t his fault she wasn’t wise enough to take heed of his words. “And while I won’t say anything, the same can’t be said if Jackson gets a hold of this knowledge.”

“Eyes open, mouth shut?” she asked.

“If you’re capable of it,” he shot back.

“I think you’re confusing me with yourself, Dr. Smarmy,” she shot back.

“I think we’re losing sight of the reason you’re here,” Emma interrupted, not quite sure what to make of this man. There was something rather unnerving about his bluntness and she wondered if the man was capable of lying. If he wasn’t, would he really be able to help them? Then again, his whole attitude screamed entitlement, so he was probably dismissed more often than he was listened to. Still, it was something to note and be wary of.

“The Chosen One?” he snorted after taking a moment to study her. “Is it a blond thing?”

“Faith and Kendra had dark hair,” Emma snapped, irritated by his words. By his categorizing her with a fictional being, dismissing two of them, and being rather dismissive of the reason he was even involved in their situation – she didn’t think she was going to like this man. But if he could help her get her second chance, she would put up with him until he crossed the line she’d drawn of how far she would tolerate such abuse.

“And were hardly as successful as the twice dead blond,” he retorted.

“Depends on how you define success,” she shot back. “Faith crawled out of the hole life dropped her down and became balanced, centered, and far more rational than Buffy.”

Rodney stared a moment, “Oh, I think that there’s the minutest chance that I might like this one – so I think that I’ll keep her at a distance.”

Belle shook her head, laughter bubbling up inside. If she was diplomatic and skilled enough, this could temporarily work out for the best.

________________________________________

Neal shifted uneasily in his seat as Emma drove after Dr. McKay, unnerved by the events that had transpired before they had received a phone call – one that basically ordered them to take this conversation to some place in Colorado where they were to meet the formidable General O’Neill. So far, Belle had been as good as her word, though there was a look on her face as she glanced at McKay. But she had gone out of her way to find a way for the warrant for his arrest to disappear. The charges had been dropped – he’d checked with one of his fences to make sure about that and had been shocked to learn that his entire history had been erased.

Just what was it that General O’Neill would expect of them? Because he knew this wasn’t just some meeting to vet them and make sure that they were decent folk who had just lost their way, not with the effort he’d gone through to clear him of all charges in the past. No, this man wanted them for some reason and he wouldn’t rest easy until he found out what it was. This was his Tallahassee as much as it was Emma’s.

And what would make even the formidable Rodney McKay look worried at hearing that they were to relocate immediately to Colorado?

“Nervous?”

“I’m scared to death, Emma. Just who are these people we’re going to meet that they can accomplish such changes in as little as twenty-four hours of being notified?”

She nodded, herself having found the same thing had happened to her. It was weird to find out that everything that had been recorded about you was erased, as though you had never existed or did anything besides school. Even the many homes she’d been fostered in had been reduced to one place, the best family she’d been fostered by. But everything else was completely gone.

It was something that made her shiver, realizing the extent of power this organization had over them. While she’d often felt helpless in the past, she’d found ways to hide it or fight it. This…this was on another level entirely. This was an organization that was faceless and nameless, something she could neither see nor hear. And they were headed right towards it. If not for the new beginning she wanted, she was half tempted to drive on. She could only wonder what it must be like for Booth for she knew that his past was far more checkered than hers had been and was quite possibly full of more skeletons than Neal’s.

Well, if one didn’t think about the fact that he’d been here twice and she didn’t know what had happened to him before he’d met the Darling family. Hearing about his life in the world of fairy tales had been quite enough. She knew that she would need to ask him more, find out what else lay in his past but for the moment, she was content with wearing blinders about his life.

Because if she thought about that, she would have to think about just how long Neal had lived.

And she **_really_** didn’t want to think about just how old he was.

“Your father not capable of doing such things?” she asked, eyeing his expression out of the corner of her eye. There was the slightest twitch and she knew it had more to do with the ease she was employing when talking about his father than the question. Thinking over what she knew, she also realized that it had to do with the question. It couldn’t be easy to talk about such things with any degree of ease.

“His power is different and requires a price of equal value,” he said after a moment. “An eye for an eye kind of situation, the kind that says to create a life, a life must be taken in exchange.”

She stared at him, horrified.

“Oh, not that he would kill anyone to create a life. My papa was always about looking for loopholes. How does one define taken for example, it could mean in death or it could mean taken away from one life and given another,” he quickly said. While he knew his papa had killed – it was how he’d become the Dark One after all – he also knew that it wasn’t a method he preferred. One could continue to gain an advantage if you didn’t kill those who may one day have need of his services.

Emma nodded slowly but he could see she wasn’t convinced. If he was being perfectly honest, he wasn’t either. The only one who could answer the question of whether or not his papa felt the same way was Belle and she was hardly an unbiased source.

“She’s taken up the payment part in this deal. This was supposed to be our deal and yet, she’s giving up her life in order to help us out,” Emma said, making the turn onto the freeway. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she saw that Booth was still with them.

“Yeah,” Neal agreed. Reaching behind them, he pulled out a spiral bound notebook. After a moment of thought, he uncapped a pen. Then he stared at the blank paper. A blank paper whose whiteness seemed to be an accusation more than an innocent piece of paper. “How do you address a letter to your papa when he doesn’t even know who you are?”

Emma exhaled, “That’s a loaded question if I’ve ever heard one. Too casual and it will seem like you aren’t being sincere, too formal and it’s like your trying to hard. Is there a middle road?”

“Finding one will be tricky,” he sighed. They drove in silence for a time before he finally opened the book, the sound of the pen moving across paper was the only thing in the car. Several times, the pen scratched out words and paper was ripped out of the notebook. “This isn’t as easy as I thought. Paper may be neutral but it still doesn’t help me figure out what to say. I once thought I would know what to say to him but…now that I have the chance, I can’t find the words.”

“Why not just write whatever comes to mind?” she suggested.

His head hit the back of the seat, “The only problem is, I may tell him the truth. And while I know I’m writing to my papa, he doesn’t know that. If the letter gets to him, I want him to respond, not throw it away.” Giving it more thought, he nodded. “But I could write it out and then edit it, would you help me?”

“Not really my thing,” she admitted. “I’m not saying I won’t do it but I might not be much help to you.”

“Thanks,” his gratitude was clear in his voice and the way he squeezed her leg gently.

—————

Mr. Gold woke with a start, his heart thrumming in his ears. Something was not right, he could feel it in the very marrow of his bones. That strange sense that had never led him astray before was pounding in his head. Rising carefully, he pulled on a robe and grabbed his cane. Though he wished to do without it, knowing that even as careful as he was, the cane was still a give away. He could not be without it. He grimaced as he made his way through his house, examining everything but all was as it should be.

Still, that feeling didn’t fade as he sat on his bed, rubbing his knee restlessly. Outside, he could hear the sound of the paperboy delivering the paper. A motorcycle revved up in front of his house and he almost rose before his leg tensed up. By the time the knot was worked out, the person would be gone. The break in his leg had not been properly set and so had not healed as it should. Short of allowing Dr. Whale to break it several times in an attempt to fix it, he would always be a cripple.

Most of the time it did not bother him, it brought him a certain amount of satisfaction, knowing that he’d come by this wound honestly.

The way he lived the rest of his life was questionable – just ask anyone in town. One wouldn’t even need to ask anyone, they would freely offer up an opinion that was neither asked for nor was it desired. Next to Madame Mayor, he was the most despised being in Storybrooke – but the injury to his leg was honorable. A part of him shifted uneasily , as though that thought was wrong. That this wound’s history had been anything but an honorable one. But he dismissed it easily for he’d had enough practice doing so for the memory of how he got it was too strong, to overwhelming to be denied.

Even now, he could smell the smoke that had poured out of the apartment he’d blindly rushed into, hearing the cries of his son and his wife to save them, to get them out. The path he’d cleared that his wife had rushed past him to get out…but his son. Oh, his son…the sight of his beautiful Bae falling through the floor, into the darkness of the smoke below. His hand reaching out, just barely missing his hand, the desperate scream of him as he disappeared into the smoke and fire below…

He’d never forgive himself for the death of his son.

But sometimes he could forget.

Sometimes.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mungo and Languoreth are from Adam Ardrey’s book “Finding Merlin”. And, no, they will not be much of a factor in this story. I have a set path that I am going to travel along with the Arthurian Legends if it kills me. Again, it will be nothing like what’s in the show because I think what they’ve done to the legend is rather ridiculous and makes no sense in context with what they’ve done with the Dark One. In the next chapter I will hopefully be able to delve into the way life in Storybrooke works, showing how different it is from the show. The main difference is in how Mr. Gold hurt his leg – I have an actual reason for this change.


	6. When I said I do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: Don’t have anything to add at the moment, just a great big thanks to everyone who has read and supported me and this story.
> 
> I'm really nervous about this chapter, so I hope it lives up to expectation.

 

* * *

 

 When Mr. Gold walked down the stairs in the early morning, he was dressed and ready for the day before him.  The night before seemed like a dream, almost like one of those sick, clinging, and all too real dreams he had often had after the fire took so much from him.  The ones that had made him so sloppy at work that his employer insisted that he make an appointment to see Dr. Hopper about his ‘issues’.

 

He’d only gone to three sessions before he quit his job, used what little savings he had left and opened his antiques shop.  Once he had gathered enough items and become moderately successful, he went about acquiring various properties so that he could continue to gain power in this town that looked down on him for his failure.  Sometimes, he felt lonely among all of the inhabitants in Storybrooke but he found ways to push those feelings aside.

 

Emotions – no matter what kind – were a weakness he no longer wanted to indulge.

 

He breathed deeply and opened the door, eyeing his neighbors warily.  There didn’t seem to be anything abnormal about them, not even the children who awaited the school bus seemed any different than normal.  There were some running around the streets, kicking some rocks around.  A few read books or were doing last minute homework but the majority of the kids looked like they were half asleep.

 

The day was clearer than normal for this time of year.  A faint scent of wood smoke filled the air with just the slightest hint of pumpkin and apples adding a nice hint of spice to the autumn atmosphere.  Even though it was early, he could see the Pipers across the street decorating for All Hallow’s Eve.  He shook his head slightly, trying to figure out just why they bothered to do so.  They’d just have to get new decorations later – especially their jack o’ lanterns.

 

For some reason, the Pipers always went overboard with their pumpkin display.  While he couldn’t fault the artistry or the size of them, he always felt there was too much expenditure and not enough reward for their efforts.  All in all, it was a typical morning in early fall, nothing to be suspicious about.

 

Still, he couldn’t dispel the feeling that something was not quite right, that something was going to change in his life.  It bothered him that he couldn’t tell if this change would be for good or ill. And the sick feeling that filled him as he stood there reminded him of how he felt when he’d been handed the divorce papers, severing his union to Milah, he had been so full of grief and tired, he had just conceded all that had been asked of him.

 

Of course, their divorce wouldn’t have happened if he had just listened to her.  If he had been willing to concede, to meet her half-way when she asked him to leave this town and its memories behind them, that this wasn’t what Bae would’ve wanted of them.  She pleaded with him, tried to get him to listen to her because he wasn’t alone, they were in this together – they should pull towards each other, not away from each other.

 

While a part of him agreed with Milah about leaving and starting new, being together without the influence of the town and dealing with their grief together, relearning each other as they were now, he couldn’t.  This was the town he’d been born in, that he’d gone to school in, that he’d struggled to pay his way through college, and where Bae was buried in the family plot.  To leave this town would be to leave Bae alone, he would not do that.  Even if he could recreate his life outside Storybrooke, it would be nothing knowing that he’d left his boy behind.

 

He would be leaving him alone.

 

But he couldn’t do it, not for her.  Not even for himself could he think of leaving everything behind.  Nothing mattered without his son’s smile and belief in him, in the fact that he was a better man than his papa had been.  In Bae’s eyes, he was strong and capable of far more than he thought he could be.  He had loved Milah but that love had faded with her growing discontent with the small town they lived in.  She had always had big dreams, wanted more from life than he did.

 

As he started down the path, following his normal morning routine, something caught his eye – the flag was up on his mailbox.  He never used the mailbox, preferring to deliver and receive everything by hand.  And he didn’t know anyone who would bother to write to him.  No one cared that much about him any longer, if they ever did.  His ex-wife had disappeared without so much as a trace after their divorce – she didn’t even ask for any kind of funds to help supplement her income, which was odd but she had never been the most sensible of women so he didn’t think about it to much.

 

And since she hadn’t bothered to contact him over the years, he knew it couldn’t be her.  It had worried him as much as he was able to feel the emotion through the deadness of his heart after the loss of his boy, so he’d bestirred himself to try to find her.  For the first and only time he sought advice from another and was lead to a certain detective who had quite a success rate, he had been impressed by the man’s take no prisoners and ruthlessness and hired him.

 

But even he had found no trace of her.

 

And if Killian Jones couldn’t find what he was seeking, then either he was in on the disappearance.

 

And he was no fool, he knew that he wasn’t the only man Jones worked for.  If someone wanted someone or something gone, Jones was the best man for the job.  It was one of the reasons he kept him on retainer after all.  Or that something else – perhaps the Mayor – was at work, though he could not figure out for the life of him just why either would take such an interest in his life to do such a thing.  While he and Madame Mayor often had their disagreements, they both knew that things worked better when the two of them worked together when necessary and avoided each other the rest of the time.

 

A fierce frown crossed his face as he stared at the tell tale flag, if this was some sick joke, there would be hell to pay when he found out who had perpetrated it.

 

Opening the box, he pulled out an unremarkable envelope.  Flipping it over, he held it up to the light momentarily, trying to see what it held.  All he could discern was the form of a sheet of paper, nothing more and nothing less.  Putting it in his pocket, he walked off.  Though he was curious, business had to come first, Madame Mayor would only be put off for so long before she came to find him, after all.

 

And if she did, there would be hell to pay for she did not like it when she had to go after others, her imperiousness often made him think of a regal queen, not a dully elected mayor of the town.

 

Across the street, a man watched him with a frown.  There was something off about the crocodile this morning and he had studied the man’s routine enough to know when something was wrong.  Watching his movements, he could see the slight tremor that shook his frame before he’d pulled himself together and walked away, looking for all the world like nothing had affected him.

 

He watched him walk for a bit before looking at the mailbox, puzzled.  Why was he receiving mail?  Like everyone in this town, he knew that Gold preferred one on one communication.  Baring that, he would accede to the use of phone calls and computer correspondences, though such instances were few and far between – Gold was a man of habit though he still retained the ability to shock people.

 

Pulling out a phone, he looked at it doubtfully.  Even after learning to use one of these things, he did not like them.  Give him the firmness of parchment and quill any day, he sourly thought as he dialed a familiar number.  Though letters took longer, he felt they were far more reliable than such flimsy devices to talk to others didn’t seem quite secure nor particularly wise.

 

But he knew better than to risk his true employer’s wrath by using the methods he preferred.

 

“ _Yes_?” a voice asked, smooth and precise over the line.

 

And he knew it was no illusion for the woman in question was, if anything, smoother and colder than her voice implied.  “Who would be writing to the crocodile?  You didn’t bring in any of his friendly acquaintances, did you?”

 

“ _Don’t be a fool, the Dark One has never had anyone approaching the status of a friendly relationship with him.  No, this is something that I do not understand for no one that I know would write to him without knowing who he truly was_ ,” her voice was contemplative, the sound of papers could be heard over the line.  After a moment, he could make out the sound of scratching, which meant she was making note of something.  “ _But knowing him, he will want to employ you to find out.  Remain his confidant, Jones, his ally – it always hurts him worse when he’s betrayed by those he trusts.  Rumpelstiltskin never learned to guard himself._ ”

 

“That’s not an easy task, Gold isn’t quite as open as the Crocodile was,” he bitterly said, not wanting to think about just how well the Red Queen knew this monster.  There were just things one did not want to know even if one could sense the truth behind words.  Something about Cora reminded him of Milah, thoughts which were neither profitable nor appealing as he realized just how similar their taste in women were.  About the only one who might prove to be the exception was one he’d only heard about, the one girl he’d met as he’d been given the task to get her out of the Enchanted Forest, he’d done so and only afterwards had learned just what prize he’d given away.

 

It was something he didn’t think he’d forgive the Blue Fairy for, she should never have withheld that information from him.  Getting revenge on the crocodile was the one thing he lived for, that he dreamed about – and she’d denied him that pleasure.  “Maybe the fact that his son is truly dead has killed that part of him.”

 

“ _Oh, it’s there.  All that he was is still beneath the surface of the illusion.  You just have to make sure he never has a reason to doubt your sincerity and loyalty to him.  If you do this and do it well, I promise you, your revenge will be sweet and complete._ ”

 

Closing the phone at the recognition of his dismissal, Killian Jones made his way towards the apartment that doubled as his office.  Being a private investigator was not something he liked to do.  By no means was it something he would have _chosen_ to do.  Though a great cover for him if he slipped up by knowing things that he should not, it was rather boring at times.  But the crocodile paid him well and gave him enough cases to keep the boredom at bay as he waited and counted the years go by, noting that no one got any older in this town.  No one got any older and seemed to not notice that they were frozen in time, held in the same state by some power, it felt strange to him that the passage of time was something he noticed but others did not.

 

True, he’d only been here two years, not the nineteen that the others here had been but he still noticed things.

 

It was a miracle that no matter how many times Regina had sought his information and aid, she did not see the truth behind his illusion.  Having both his hands should not have been that much of a disguise.

 

* * *

 

When Gold walked into his office, the rent from the nuns in his hand, he rolled his shoulders to will away the tension in them.  Of all those he gathered his rent from, the nuns were the ones he disliked the most, especially the Mother Superior, though he could not say for sure just why that was the case.  With the exception of dealing with the rent and his other duties as landlord, they did not cross paths often.  But there was something about the woman that made him want to beat her with his cane.  Therefore, he tried to avoid her as much as possible, knowing that the Sheriff would **_love_** to have a reason to lock him away.

 

Astrid was the only one he found somewhat tolerable – but that wasn’t saying much.

 

Sitting down after placing the money in his safe, he pulled the envelope from his pocket.  Turning it over, he couldn’t see any identifying marks to show who or where this came from.  On the front was his address and an anonymous p.o. box number and he resolved to have Jones look into it, perhaps it would offer some clue.  But as he looked at the city’s name, something about it itched his memory.

 

There was something vaguely familiar about it, almost like he’d seen that city’s name before, outside of school or business connections.  But there really was no reason for this knowing, he’d never left the town of Storybrooke, never had a reason to.  Gingerly, he used a letter opener to slit the top of the envelope and pulled out the slim letter.  It was rather unremarkable, written as it was on school lined paper with a pen instead of type written.

 

Somehow that more personal touches had him opening the letter itself to read instead of throwing it in the trash – or sending it straight to Jones, something that he should’ve done immediately after dealing with the Mayor and refused to contemplate why he had not.  His eyes narrowed, seeing that the date was marked as earlier in the week.  The writing was unfamiliar to him and yet, there was something almost distinctly familiar about the way the words flowed.

 

                _Dear…_

_I have no idea how to address this.  Father seems to be formal, dad to informal, papa as taking advantage of a special relationship, writing to you as Mr. Gold seems more businesslike than I wish in this letter, and sir places a distance between us that I feel does not suit the nature of this writing._

_I hope you will allow me some liberty to ignore the proper address until I know what you would prefer.  Maybe you do not even remember signing up for this program of correspondence for parents who have lost their children and children who were very young when they became orphans.  But I hope that you have not entirely changed your position as I am in need of some guidance for I am to become a father…and I’m scared to death._

_Scared that I will fail my child in some way…fail like my papa failed me in the end, I guess he didn’t know how to be something he was not._

_I’m sorry, I don’t want to start this correspondence off on the wrong foot but I don’t know what else to say.  My Emma tells me that he was kick ass because he was strong to stay in a place that held no love for him, a place that only held bad memories of when my mom…died but I just don’t know.  He hurt me terribly by the decision that he made that night.  She’s smart and I try to believe her but it is so hard, the wound still feels raw though that night happened so long ago and I am now an adult._

_I hope that you can give me some help.  None of the other profiles offered to me called to me like yours did._

_Neal Cassidy_

 

Now he remembered – this was the only piece of advice he had followed after his final session with Dr. Hopper.  As much as he’d hated the idea, something about the program dealing with grieving parents and children had caught his attention.  The excerpts from letters had intrigued him for it seemed that it somehow helped strangers connect and heal.  For once, he had ignored his cautious, almost cowardly side and sent in his profile.

 

He’d never gotten so much as one letter, not even a joke one, and had pretty much forgotten all about it.

 

But this letter…there was something about it that sparked a painful memory from some time and place he neither recalled nor wanted to.

 

His hand shook as he read it again, struck by the very tone of the letter – the half formal, half-pleading sound – and it kept him from tossing it aside.  He **_wanted_** to answer it but as he stared at the paper, he realized that there was nothing in his mind.  He could come up with no words, no witticisms, to put down on paper.  The words staring up at him demanded complete and utter honesty from him.

 

And after so long of using half truths and meaningless phrases, he wasn’t sure he could use anything else.

 

_To Mr. Cassidy,_

_I understand your hesitance for I share the same feelings.  As I stare at this plain white piece of paper, I find that I have very few words to share with you.  Perhaps if I understood a bit more of your situation, I would have words of counsel for you.  But it is still too early in our communications to share such things with one another.  Honesty is not something that comes easily to me for doing so renders me vulnerable to those around me._

_Still, there is something about your words that demands honesty from me.  I shall do my best to answer your queries and your wonderings, though you must grant me some leniency for we are yet strangers._

_For the beginning of our correspondences, you may write to me as Mr. Gold.  I will continue to address you as Mr. Cassidy until we both feel comfortable enough to use another form of address with each other.  You are correct in believing that I had forgotten about this program for I never received one letter.  For all of that disappointment, I am glad that what I wrote inspired someone to try to reach out for me._

_I do not remember what I wrote down but I will say that I lost my son and wish that I had the chance to do it all over again.  On that day, I lost not only the son that made the world seem brighter and full of hope, but I lost my wife for I would not bend to what she wished.  Wishes are for children, though my Bae would heartily disagree with that belief.  He was…truly unique._

_If I have any advice to give you right now, though I know so little of your story, it would be to treasure your child and honor your Emma._

_Mr. R. Gold_

 

He read over the words and felt dissatisfied with them but there was nothing for it.  In that part of himself, the part he kept locked away and buried under business and deals, he knew that this was the letter he should send.  Should he truly wish to correspond with someone, this was the one he **_had_** to use, no other would do.  But it was so…so open in a way that he was unused to being with others, not even with Dr. Hopper had he been this honest with.

 

Though his hands trembled, he steadied them as he placed the letter into an envelope and addressed it.  Quickly rising, he made his way to the post office and sent the letter on its way before he could give into his second, third, and fourth doubtful thoughts.  Careful, he hid his clenched hand in his pocket, forcing himself to walk away and ignore the voice in his head that wanted him to go to see Jones.

 

To order Jones to find out everything he could about this Neal Cassidy, the pawn broker was resolved to let things play out with this man slowly and honestly.  There was something about the letter, about the tone and feel of the writer that pushed aside his natural reticence about letting others in.   _Do the brave thing and bravery would follow_ …the words entered his mind and he shook his head, but couldn’t deny that it was something he wished to happen to him.

 

A shy but deprecating smile quirked his lips as he realized how pathetic he was being, letting something so unusual take hold of him.  But it wasn’t something he was willing to fight against – not yet.  He would see were this new path took him and if the Neal would actually respond.

 

For once, he would allow some hope to creep into his dull, gray life and allow some light and faith in.

 

So long as he was careful, no one would ever realize that a small change had occurred within his admittedly cold and narrow heart.

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I have no idea if such a program exists. I just thought it might be something that Dr. Hopper might suggest for Gold's situation - and that Bae/Neal would find a way to use it to his advantage. He would have learned about it through August who knew about it because of Hopper seeing as how he is Pinocchio and Hopper is Jimminy Cricket (though, of course, he doesn't know that).

**Author's Note:**

> I really have no idea where this came from. But I was bit by the idea back in season one. Due to unfortunate circumstances (losing my computer, getting really sick), I did not have a chance to write it down. As I didn't want my vision to clash with s2, I have only sporadically watched it – if one could call it that. So, I apologize if my characters are terribly OOC. There is no reason to review, but please know that I appreciate all those who take the chance to read my work.
> 
> Also, this is completed. If I get another idea, I will add more. Or if anyone is interested in picking it up, please drop me a line. I'd be most interested in reading another's take upon it.
> 
> originally posted on ff.net under SeptinaStar.
> 
> Thanks again.


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